


apeirophobia.

by stackeddominoes



Series: fear of everything. [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dream Smp, Gen, Hearing Voices, Hurt No Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Ending, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, So Many Character Deaths, Suicide Attempt, Technoblade Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), angst without happy ending, lol, mcyt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29107677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stackeddominoes/pseuds/stackeddominoes
Summary: Apeirophobia. The fear of infinity.When Technoblade dies, he decides, he wants to be able to feel it.He makes this decision on a quiet Thursday afternoon while polishing his axe. He wonders who there is that could kill him. He wonders, if he finds someone, whether they'd have the guts.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: fear of everything. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181987
Comments: 25
Kudos: 283





	apeirophobia.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Cherry and Sophie for betaing this work and making it the best it could be. And a thank you to Milk for moral support. Check out Milk's art, milkkjuice on tumblr! They're amazing. <3

When Technoblade dies, he decides, he wants to be able to feel it.

He makes this decision on a quiet Thursday afternoon while polishing his axe. He wonders who there is that could kill him. He wonders, if he finds someone, whether they'd have the guts.

1\. Techno can't remember the first person he killed. His memory is addled with so much blood, never his own, that it quickly became hard to determine whose he spilt first. 

He knows he was young, really young, and that he did it in self-defence. But being on the streets since he was a boy meant most of the people he killed was in self-defence. Still, he ponders, who was the first person's life I claimed?

Was it the brown-haired man who begged that he had a family to feed? The woman that asked if she'd be remembered? Or was it the boy who thought Techno was an easy target? How could he have known there was screaming in his head telling him exactly where to plunge the knife?

Eventually, Techno stopped caring. By the time he had turned fifteen he had been fighting in a tournament he didn't know the name of for three years, bringing in enough money where he could afford his food, and on good nights, a place to sleep. Murder was ingrained in his muscles, and Techno couldn't say he knew why that was wrong.

At sixteen, he met Phil. 

The tournament was close to finishing, with the finals to be held in a week. _The semi-finals were a breeze,_ Techno had thought glumly. _Hopefully, the finals will be a challenge. At least it pays well._

His 'manager' had been taking larger sums of his winnings, but it was fine. There was enough left for a motel room and some snacks, and that was enough for him.

Techno had been tired though, and so when the key to his room didn't immediately work, he maybe got a bit frustrated. He slammed his hand on the door, shook the handle once, twice, before it was shoved open and Techno almost fell onto a very annoyed looking man. 

He quickly jumped back, trying to avoid crushing him. _Christ, he looks weak. Has he ever fought someone in his life?_

"Can I help you?"

"Uh... This isn't my room."

"No, it's not."

Techno backed up. He ducked his head in a sort of apology and walked away, hoping to stumble across his actual room.

"Hey!"

He turned back around to see the man standing outside his door, a curious look on his face.

“Were you fighting today?”

Techno fought the urge to roll his eyes. _No shit, Sherlock_. He stayed quiet, and gave a curt nod.

The man had shock painted on his face. “You seem awfully young. How old are you, kid?”

_Kid?_

“I’m sixteen. If you don’t mind, I’ll be going.”

“Wait!”

_Could this guy be any more bothersome?_

“What do you want, man? I’m exhausted over here.” Techno crossed his arms.

“Look, I know this is a pretty odd offer, but I mean, I can’t imagine you’re happy fighting illegally, and all. Point is, I have a spare bedroom back home, if you want to come with me. Get away from this shithole.” The man looked honest. He had a warm smile on his face, like he was trying not to scare him.

“Fighting illegally? Is this competition… illegal?” Techno had noticed some shady stuff occurring, quick exchanges of money, beatings occurring behind closed doors, but he assumed it to be none of his business what criminals did in his midst. His manager hadn’t found it necessary to bring up, and Techno wasn’t bothered to care that much. 

Concern flickered in the man’s eyes. “Were you given a choice when you were recruited?” 

“I hadn’t considered turning down their offer.”

The man barked out a laugh. It was almost contagious.

“This whole competition is run illegally, kid. It’s a fight to the death. How could that be legal? I get you can’t have been around here long-”

“I’ve been here four years.”

Bewilderment flew onto the guy’s face.

“And you haven’t died yet? Holy shit.”

Techno didn’t need to deal with this. Yeah, it was a miracle that he, a child, got this far, he’d heard it all before from people he didn’t care to know. The man sensed Techno’s disinterest.

“I’ll leave you alone mate, but if you want to get out of here my offer stands. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. Think about it.” 

The man stepped back into his room, shutting the door with a click. Techno stared at the door for a minute before finding his own room and trying to sleep. 

But alas, rest was not meant for Techno. He thought about the offer all night. The tournament really wasn’t paying that well, if he was honest. He had been sleeping on the streets more often than before, and less money was going in his pocket than in his managers. It wasn’t a good way to live, and Techno knew that. Hell, it could barely be considered living.

The next morning, Techno stood in front of the stranger’s room door, a practically empty duffel bag in hand. The man answered before Techno could knock twice.

“Knew you’d come kid. I’m Phil, by the way. Figured you should know.” Phil put his hand out. Techno shook it firmly.

“Techno.”

\----

Techno remembers the journey back to Phil’s house. How Phil had told him about his sons. Wilbur was the same age as Techno, and had recently become obsessed with classic literature. He mentioned Tommy and Tubbo, his younger boys who would adore him once they realised Techno was a fighter. He then mentioned that only he and Wilbur were blood related, but they were a family. Phil mentioned that Techno could be part of that family if he wished. Techno hadn’t responded to that. 

When they actually arrived, Techno was ill-prepared for the chaos he was immediately introduced to. Tommy constantly asked for tips on how to fight while Tubbo nodded enthusiastically behind him. Techno would laugh a little and decline, more than often to go back to helping Wilbur memorise chords or to read books together.

Regardless, his fingers still itched for battle, constantly wanting the weight of a sword in his hand. Phil noticed this, and gave him an axe instead, leaving him in charge of defending the house when mobs came too close. Techno was more than happy to do it.

2\. Techno was familiar with death by the time he was nineteen. Death was at his beck and call. Death was an old friend. But he also knew it as a foe. 

The years flew by at Phil’s house. What began as hesitant friendships became brotherly bonds, and he looked at Phil as less of a mentor and more of a father. The awkwardness that was introduced when a stranger showed up melted surprisingly fast into a bond like any biological family. Despite how annoying they (Tommy) could be, Techno saw them as his own blood.

Finally, Techno could say he was truly happy. But that didn't mean death shied away from him. It evolved into something else. Something hurtful. He began knowing it as something unpredictable. 

Death outgrew the bounds of his control. It was something that could sneak up on him and tear his heart from his chest.

The first night Tubbo had walked inside with a runny nose, no one questioned it. He had been wandering around outside for hours, bored and restless out of his mind with Tommy and Wilbur gone on a week-long trip to the nearest village. Their winter clothes needed repair and replacement after years of use, and Phil couldn’t afford to make the trip himself. God knows what state the house would be in if he left all four of his sons without supervision. 

So Wilbur and Tommy had been tasked to go. Tubbo’s immune system wouldn’t be able to handle the journey, and Techno was required to defend the house. Phil wasn’t worried. Wilbur was responsible, and Tommy had reluctantly promised to be on his best behaviour. Everything was fine.

Techno was the first to realise everything was not, in fact, fine. Tubbo’s runny nose never stopped. He could be heard trying to clear his throat in the middle of the night, and he left his bed less and less often. Phil brewed a few healing potions, leaving them alongside chicken soup on Tubbo’s bedside table. He claimed they’d sort out Tubbo within twenty-four hours.

“A little cold, that’s all it is. He’ll be brand new, faster than we know.”

Twenty-four hours passed with little improvement. Bags had formed under Tubbo’s eyes from the lack of sleep. He was constantly sweating and complaining about the heat despite it being the middle of winter. Techno had started leaving buckets next to his bed for when he inevitably threw up. In only a matter of days, Tubbo had reached a state of which Techno didn’t know he could return.

Techno was bothered with how blindly optimistic Phil was being. He was ignoring how much faster Tubbo’s breathing was getting, in favour of telling him all will be okay. Tubbo will be fine! He’s had a cold before, this is just another one that he’ll get over before Tommy and Wilbur get back. Techno would sit silently as Tubbo was fed lies. The look in Tubbo’s eyes showed he knew what his older brother knew. 

All Techno could do was hope Tommy arrived home before imminent occurred.

Techno was in the room the night it happened. He had replaced the vomit bucket and forced some soup down Tubbo’s throat. He gave Tubbo the pillow from his own bed and turned to leave.

A soft cough stopped him. He turned around, and Tubbo was holding out a hand to him. He looked… small. So, so small. There was no fear in his eyes, just an empty sadness, as though he was already mourning himself. Techno walked towards him, settling beside the bed in amiable silence before reaching for the outstretched hand and clinging onto it. 

Tubbo spoke first.

“I don’t think I’m going to see Tommy again,” he confessed quietly. Techno barely heard him, and yet the words were still too loud. 

“He should be home in a couple of days, Tubbo. You’ll get to see him.”

He could almost hear Tubbo’s rueful smile in his response.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. It feels like the end now. But that’s okay. I’m happy to go if at least I’m with you.”

“Do you want me to get Phil? He can be here, too.”

“No, no, he needs his rest. He’s been sleeping worse than me. I’m glad he’ll be able to relax soon. Besides, I don’t want to upset him.”

The answer hurt Techno. It was odd. Nothing Tubbo’s ever done had hurt him. But his apathy to letting Techno watch him die made his throat clench. He cleared his voice.

“So why make me stay?”

“You make me feel safe. I’m not sure what comes next. But at least you’ll be here, protecting me,” Tubbo said it so simply, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. And for the first time since he was a boy, Techno cried.

He woke up to a crick in his neck, the bedroom door slamming shut behind Phil and a frozen hand curled around his own. 

They prepared to bury the body the next day Digging into the tough soil they avoided eye contact with each other. They hadn’t yet discussed how to break the news to Tommy and Wilbur. They hadn’t talked at all. 

Tommy found out alone. He had run ahead of Wilbur, yelling about how he wanted to show Tubbo the coat they had found for him. He had stitched the bees onto it himself. He yelled out a hello towards Phil and Techno once he was inside the house. Not waiting for a response he burst into Tubbo’s room, hiding the coat behind his back. 

“Tubbo, you will not fucking believe this, okay? Wilbur managed to scrape enough change together to get some thread and look, okay, it’s not the best. Actually, it looks quite shit if I’m being honest and definitely wasn’t worth staying back another day, but I-”

Tommy faltered. Tubbo wasn’t moving. He looked so peacefully asleep. Tommy went to shake him, but his skin was startlingly cold where he touched it, and he jumped back. 

He fell to the floor, vaguely registering the front doors opening and slamming shut, Phil and Techno calling out for him and Wilbur asking after them, “What on Earth is going on?”

The bedroom door opened. For just a moment, the world was blaringly silent.

Phil’s hand landed on Tommy’s left shoulder.

Tommy screamed. 

3\. When Techno found out another one of his brothers was dead, he didn't feel anything.

That is, at least, what he told himself. In the quiet of his room on late nights, when the voices stopped being background noise and became company, he could admit to himself he felt. He felt pain, true, soul-crushing pain that he’d never wanted to feel again.

He felt so guilty. Could he have helped prevent Wilbur’s madness? Did he miss the signs that he was out of control? How had he just let Tommy be dragged into it? Tommy had to watch Icarus fly too close to the sun, thinking it was Prometheus getting fire that would save the world. 

Techno was worried about his last living brother. 

Tommy, who looked at Wilbur like he could touch the sky.

Tommy, who would have held up the weight of it if Wilbur only had asked him to. 

Tommy, who’s eyes look dead as he watched his second brother be buried next to the first.

Tears welled in eyes on a determinedly blank face, which he held too high to be true. Phil went to put a hand on his shoulder. He was quick to shove it away.

“Get the fuck away from me, Phil,” Tommy snarled. The blank look was snatched in favour of rage, betrayal. “You don’t get to fucking touch me.”

Phil looked startled. “Tommy… Please, you can’t hold this against me.”

“I- I can hold whatever the fuck I want against you. Wilbur was everything to me. He was all I had. Not you, not Techno, no no- you had each other. Tubbo is dead. He’s been dead for years and Wilbur was the only one who took care of me.” Tommy’s face morphed from animosity to just bitterness. 

“Y’know, Techno told me about the week Tubbo died. I wasn’t there to see it, but he told me about how you just bottled it up and ignored all his pain because you couldn’t fucking deal with it. You called it a fucking cold! He had pneumonia, Phil, and you left him for dead. I told myself not to blame you, I promised Techno I wouldn’t hold you responsible. Well, guess what, Dad. I do blame you. You killed Tubbo. And you didn’t stop there, you had to kill the only person I had left. So get the fuck away from me. You never get to see me again.”

Phil watched Tommy walk away in the wind. He turned to where Techno sat, offering a hand.

Techno didn’t take it. “You killed Wilbur?”

Phil looked stunned at Techno’s bluntness, and gave a slight nod, keeping his hand offered.

“He begged me to, Techno. I didn’t want to. I would never do something like that at my own volition.” 

Techno knocked Phil’s hand away from where it was outstretched. 

“You’re weak to give into a madman.”

“I wasn’t given a choice, son.”

Techno walked into the house. There’s always a choice.

4\. When Techno tore Phil’s wings out of his back, he didn't feel remorse. 

He had walked into Phil’s bedroom a few nights after finding out how Wilbur died. A candle was lit on the bedside table, illuminating where Phil sat up, reading a book. He raised an eyebrow at Techno’s silhouette, wondering why his son, who had been avoiding him for days, was seeking him so late in the night.

Techno stood behind the desk chair, gesturing for Phil to sit in it. He unwillingly did. Techno shifted the chair around to face the mirror, where their eyes met.

“I know you’ve been relying on your wings more. I’ve seen you try to hide your limp. I don’t think” -Techno pulled a knife from his boot- “you deserve that luxury.”

Phil’s eyes grew wide, but he was still. He stayed silent as the knife was brought to his wings.

Several moments passed as Techno began severing the wings. Phil cried out in agony as Techno gave up on the knife halfway through a wing, ripping out the rest with his hands. Blood dripped over his hands and Phil’s back, sticky and slow. The scent was revolting.

 _Good_ , the voices praised. _Keep going._

Techno’s hands trembled as he grabbed the other wing. The knife slid in with more ease than the other wing. 

"When you were sixteen," Phil started, voice hitching, “your tusks started growing in.”

Techno paused, frowning. Sixteen was a long time ago. 

"I had grown my wings at the same age, so I knew the pain well. I kept making tea and soup because you couldn’t bear to chew anything, but it was always too hot or too cold. You couldn’t sleep from the pain. I’d never wanted my children to go through that pain, and it broke my heart that you had to.”

Phil hesitated, lowering his eyes from where they sought out Techno’s in the mirror.

“Two years later, a creeper blew up our barn."

Techno looked up. “I had forgotten about that.”

Phil chuckled. “Tommy had gone in to tell you dinner was ready and forgot to close the doors on the way out. The blast managed to hit you, and you looked so terrified to wake up and see one of your tusks was gone. It took a whole month to regrow.”

Phil drew a long, quivering breath.

“Do you think my wings will regrow, Techno?”

He didn’t respond.

Phil turned around, his eyes searching Techno’s. Tears fell down red, puffy cheeks.

“Do you think it will hurt?”

Techno finished bandaging the wound. He didn’t dignify Phil’s question with a response. As he left, he caught a glimpse of his father wincing in pain. Good. He wanted it to hurt.

He wanted it to hurt so, so much.

5\. Techno never liked Dream. 

To be fair, Techno doesn’t like many people. He’d never seen the appeal of making friends. He had his family, and that had been enough for a long time. 

But Dream seemed to think they’re friends. He thought that because he was owed a favour, he needed to be chummy with Techno. He was relentlessly annoying.

He sent his condolences when Wilbur died. It was a short note, talking about how even though Dream and Wilbur disagreed on a lot of things, he wouldn’t wish a brother’s death upon Techno. He asked if there would be a funeral, as though he would be invited to it. He asked where Phil had disappeared off to.

Dream soon started sending biweekly notes. Techno read them, every single one, just in case they contained something important. They rarely did. 

After about a month of notes, he was informed Tommy had been exiled for burning down George’s house. Dream said Tommy wouldn’t want Techno to visit. He was doing just fine, everyone was stopping by to keep him company and it was barely a real punishment. The messages always sounded calculated, planned out perfectly. Techno didn’t believe them.

But he didn’t visit, either. He knew Tommy would be angry at him for what he did to Phil. Tommy wouldn’t want to see him after what he did to Phil. So he kept ignoring the letters. 

Dream did visit him, though. Two weeks into Tommy’s exile, he stopped by Techno’s house. He was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of tea that Techno had no idea how he made because his tea had run out weeks ago and the necessary herbs didn’t exactly grow in the snow. 

He looked manic. His eyes were too bright, his smile spread too wide. He’d seen a similar look in Wilbur’s eyes not too long ago. Techno wishes he had kept the mask covering his face,

“Techno! Long time no see!” The jovial tone in Dream’s voice was not reassuring.

“Hello, Dream. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well, look, I hate to intrude, you seem to be quite… content, farming potatoes. But Tommy’s gone missing. You wouldn’t have happened to see him around, would you? It’d be a shame if he’d left exile and gotten hurt.”

“I can’t say I have seen him. I’ll let you know if I do.” He wouldn’t.

“Really? I could have sworn I saw him hiding around in your basement.”

Techno eyed Dream. He looked sly, cheeks upturned from a boldly displayed grin. Dream turned his gaze to just behind Techno, setting his tea down softly on its coaster. Techno followed his eye line to the ladder. Reluctantly, Techno took shaking hands to the rungs. Each step was uncomfortably present beneath his feet, wood pressing in before the floor’s cold stone.

The room’s stench hit him all at once, and Techno doubled over, gripping the ladder for balance even as he felt his knees knock the ground, which was… wet?

With blood.

Blood, seeping into his grey pants and staining them quickly.

Blood that couldn’t be from him. That couldn’t be from Dream,

But most definitely was from the motionless body tossed haphazardly by his chests.

Dream must have realised when it clicked for Techno because his wheezing laughter made its entrance, harsh and cruel as Techno crawled across to Tommy’s body.

He’d held a dead brother’s hand before. He didn’t think he’d have to do it again. 

“Dream. What the hell did you do?”

Dream calmed his laughter, sighing a bit. “You have to understand, Techno, he was getting in the way. I had to get rid of him.”

“He… he didn’t deserve this, Dream. He was a good kid.”

“You’re lucky I brought his body back. I could have left him to rot by the cliff he jumped off. But I figured he deserved to be buried next to his brothers. The least you owe me is a thank you.”

Techno turned around slowly. “He killed himself?”

“I guess it was just too lonely in exile. No one visited him except me. Not even his only family left bothered to drop by.”

_Condescending prick._

“He had looked so fragile standing on the edge, looking down.”

“You… you watched him jump?”

Dream let out a chuckle. “Well, you could say I gave him some motivation. An extra push.”

Techno knows what it's like to see red, to be thrown so quickly into anger there is nothing but a need for violence. This wasn’t it. This was stepping confidently over the line.

He stands slowly, laying Tommy’s hand across his chest as he gets up. His axe feels heavy where it’s strapped against his back.

“Dream.”

“Techno.”

“Why would you kill him? He wasn’t a threat, he was alone in exile,” Techno tried desperately to stay monotonous. “You had him at your beck and call. He was just a _boy_.”

“Techno, I don’t need some child to inevitably screw me over. If I can eliminate a threat, I’ll do it. I have the discs. What else do I need?”

Techno scoffed, “Apparently, you feel the need to play games with me to find out my last brother is dead. Why would you bring his body here?”

“As I said, he should be buried with his brothers. The collection in the backyard is growing steadily. I wonder when it will be your turn?”

It sounded like a challenge.

“I’m not sure I can die, Dream.”

“I’m willing to bet on it.”

He heard Dream pull down his mask, unsheathe his sword, the metal scraping against metal, sharp and scathing. He reacted on instinct, pulling the axe from where it was cloaked under his cape. The weapons met with a clang, then a dull thud as the sword flew from Dream’s hand and hit the floor. 

“You shouldn’t rely on the element of surprise to beat me, Dream.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that for the next time I try to kill you.” He held out his hand expectantly, waiting for Techno to take it, to help him up, to help him.

The voices told him not to take it. They told him to hold his axe high above his head and swing it through Dream’s face. To watch his head split open, blood and brains leak out onto the floor. To see that gleam leave his eyes.

“No. No, you won’t.”

6\. Techno didn’t believe in trying to remember the people he’s killed. 

Techno doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need a relic. He knows some people list everyone they killed. They scare it onto their skin. He never needed that. He never cared about who he killed.

Until he killed everyone. 

The voices had become too much. They kept telling him of blood and murder and he caved, he finally caved, he couldn’t do it anymore. His brothers were dead. His father meant nothing to him. He had always thought he had nothing. Then he lost everything.

He no longer had reason to oppose the voices. So he didn’t.

He killed everyone. 

George and Sapnap went first. It wasn’t personal. Techno even tried to make it quick. 

Most of their deaths passed in a haze of blood. At first, people seemed shocked or angry to see Techno’s axe pointed at their throat. After a while, they started begging as soon as they saw him.

Ranboo’s death stood out. He was the last person he had to kill, following Phil. Phil had hurt. Killing him crushed his soul. Techno had expected him to fight back. He hadn’t expected him to cry. He never would have guessed that after a valiant battle, Phil would turn his back to Techno, cradling his head in his arms and begging Techno to just do it. Send him wherever his other three children already are.

Techno purged Phil’s death from his mind. Instead, he found himself thinking of Ranboo. 

Ranboo, who was so young.

Tub- Ranboo, who had been so accepting of death.

He had spoken with such love. “I suppose I should have known you would come for me too.”

“It has to be done, Ranboo. My hands are tied.”

“I guess some part of me thought I’d be the exception. I don’t know why.”

Techno knew why. He knew that Ranboo would think he’d be saved because Techno had taken him under his wing. When he severed his life with Philza, it had been Ranboo who found him, who let Techno stay in his little shack so far away from everyone else. They had grown close, to Techno’s dismay. He taught Ranboo how to use a pickaxe. Ranboo taught him how to trust. 

It had been a nirvana, their shack. Techno had felt safe within its domesticity. Ranboo was so kind, so unlike everyone he’d been surrounded by for the past eight years. So much like a boy who had loved bees. With Ranboo, he had a family again. 

But he left. He knew he could never stay. The voices had come back, louder than ever, and Techno wanted to cave into them so badly. He’d done it before, and for Ranboo he tried to be better, to fend them off but it was so much work. 

So Techno left. He set out to kill everyone. And now he had come back to finish the job.

Ranboo placed two grass blocks, sitting down on one and patting the other, inviting Techno. Techno obliged. 

They talked for a while, about absolutely nothing. Techno knew he was stalling. He kept the conversation going.

“Should I be scared?”

The question didn’t come out of anywhere but considering Techno had been in the middle of a tangent on how best to farm potatoes in different climates, it felt like it.

“I’m not sure.” Techno thought of Tubbo, Philza, Tommy. “The best people I knew weren’t scared. Not even until the very end.” 

Ranboo’s face dropped. 

“I think I’m scared, Techno.”

Techno picked up his axe. “You shouldn’t be, Ranboo. All your favourite people will be there to greet you.”

“Will you be there?”

“Would you be able to kill me?”

“I don’t think I could kill anyone, Techno.”

“Then no. I won’t be there.”

Tears slipped down Ranboo’s face. Techno could hear them burning.

Techno sighed. He was so tired of all of this, this living in nothingness. He grabbed the axe from where he had resting it on the floor. The tears fell faster.

“Please, I don’t want to die, Techno. I don’t want to die.” The words were strangled, forced out of his throat. He wasn’t even trying to run. He was just pleading. 

“I’m sorry.” He buried the axe in Ranboo’s chest. The blood began to slowly drip out.

“I know.”

Techno couldn’t bear to finish the job. He watched as Ranboo coughed and struggled, convulsing agonisingly slowly. He stared in wonder as despite being the person who just stuck an axe in him, Ranboo reached out, asking, “Will you hold my hand? Protect me as I go?”

Techno hesitated. He held his hand in Ranboo’s.

“You remind me so much of Tubbo. I’m sorry neither of you got to grow up.”

Ranboo never responded.

7\. On a quiet, Thursday afternoon, while polishing his axe, Technoblade lies to himself. 

An odd lie. But a lie nonetheless.

He tells himself that when he dies, he wants to be able to feel it. 

When is a funny word.

\----

He keeps himself busy with menial tasks. Things he remembers dreading to do as a teenager when Phil needed more help. Tasks he knows he’d enjoy more with Ranboo by his side. 

He feeds the dogs. He sees Tommy petting them by the fire, some old disc playing in the jukebox.

He collects honey from the bees. Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo is there, wandering around in awe.

He makes mushroom soup. Phil is next to him, preparing tea.

He washes the dishes while Wilbur sings a tune he can’t quite place.

Sometimes, if Techno can bear it, he’ll talk to them. His voice is always croaky and hurts with disuse, but he’ll ask them how they are. Are they happy? Do they miss him? They disappear before they can respond.

He can never look at himself in the mirror on those days.

Each night, he replaces the different flowers on his family’s graves and sets up a fire outside. He pours portions of his food into it, an offering to whatever gods may be up there. He pleads.

“I want to be a man. I don’t want to be whatever this is anymore. I want to die.”

The wind carries his voices to the gods.

The gods don’t respond.

\----

Once a week, Techno climbs to the top of the cliff by his house. He holds six flowers.

A white rose for Tubbo. A hollyhock for Wilbur. Thyme for Tommy. A willow for Phil. A daisy for Ranboo.

A tansy for himself.

Each week, Techno falls off the edge of the cliff and thinks of his father and brothers. He watches the flowers from past weeks grow nearer and he wonders if it will be the last time he sees the sight of them.

He never remembers the impact of his fall. All he knows is that each time, inevitably, he will wake up back in his bed, alive and more broken than before.

Technoblade never dies.

But he desperately wishes he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Sorry so many people died. This is my first work, so comments and feedback would be much appreciated! If there's any question lemme know. :)
> 
> Also here's a quick flower guide because the ones I used had specific meanings!  
> White roses (Tubbo) = purity/innocence  
> Hollyhock (Wilbur) = ambition  
> Tansy (Techno) = war/immortality/hatred  
> Thyme (Tommy) = courage/strength  
> Willow (Phil) = sadness
> 
> PS. just in case anyone didn't understand the reference earlier, Icarus was the son of the inventor Daedalus. They had been imprisoned by the king of their island, and to escape, Daedalus created wings from wax and feathers. He told Icarus not to fly too close to the sun or the wax would melt and his wings would break. Icarus didn't listen, got a little too cocky and ended up falling to his death. Sad.
> 
> Prometheus was a titan who stole fire from Hephaestus' workshop to give to the humans because he pitied them and thought they deserved warmth and stuff. Zeus got made because that's illegal, and chained him to a mountain where an eagle eat his liver every day (the liver was magic and could replenish).


End file.
